


Reach

by horrorsilk



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games), Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Established Relationship, Heavy Angst, I wrote this because I'm sad, M/M, Non-Canonical Character Death, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21816121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrorsilk/pseuds/horrorsilk
Summary: "Come back. Even as a shadow, even as a dream."- EuripidesWhat greater gift can you give someone you love if not your life?
Relationships: Shao Kahn/Ermac
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Reach

Assassination attempts were nothing new, and rumors of them followed him everywhere he went. 

So when Shang Tsung mentioned a plot to poison him had been discovered and the threat had been _taken care of,_ Shao Kahn did not bat an eye, not looking up from the pair of kombatants battling before him. Every tournament came with a fresh batch of would-be assailants, none of them original in their approach, all of them caught and executed promptly. 

Whatever their reasons were, Shao Kahn did not trouble himself with them. They were beneath him. Ermac, however, took each plot almost personally, taking it upon himself to remain within eyesight of the kahn every possible moment, drifting beside him, glaring out at anyone who ventured too close. 

The emperor found it oddly endearing; the construct had been created to obey without question, but this level of _caring_ never ceased to surprise him. 

Whenever asked, Ermac would say it was his duty to protect the emperor, but behind closed doors, when bandages were unwound and sweat-slick bodies moved in tandem, the construct whispered oaths swearing no harm to befall the kahn. _His kahn._

The kahn he loved above all. 

Shao Kahn had never been one to admit to such sentiment. He lived, he claimed, he fucked, and he moved on. Love was a useless notion. But even he felt a stirring in his chest, cruel heart churning at the sight of misty green eyes looking up at him with devotion unrivaled by any who yet lived. Ermac, who lived and died by the order of his emperor, making such sweet sounds as he was filled, wearing the lingering bruises and hurts like badges of honour for as long as they marked his pale skin. 

The Outworld sun glared down, sweat and blood and entrails baking in the heat to create a scent that drove the kahn wild, eyes glaring out from under his helm, watching as the kombatants squared off in the koliseum. One fell, his dying screams nearly drowned out by the raucous braying of the crowd, which only grew louder as his skull was rent, spilling blood and brains out onto the sand. Shao Kahn joined in their roaring applause, though beside him Ermac was silent, tips of his toes skimming the ground as he floated absently. 

The construct was restless, still anxious over the earlier attempt on Shao's life, even after being told it was nothing. Sensing his agitation, the emperor brushed a hand over Ermac's wrist, which did next to nothing, but at least it was _something._ Still, Ermac gave him an amused, if exasperated, look and reached to take his hand.

Fingertips brushed against one another when there was shouting, cursing, the sound of a scuffle coming from nearby. Some other fool intending to drive a dagger into the emperor's gut, no doubt, but they were not alone. Several men came crashing forward, breaking through the kahn's men with ease, hate and bloodlust in their eyes as they lifted their weapons. Shao Kahn lunged forward, the allure of battle too strong to resist. 

One, two, three of the men crumpled before him, spines shattered, jaws ripped from their skulls. One tried to crawl away, legs splintered, but Shao Kahn planted his heel on the small of their back, massive hands digging into their ribs and ripping their lungs from within. Around him the crowd was roaring louder than before, and painted in blood, Outworld's Emperor lifted the tattered body of one of the would-be assassins, ripping the corpse in half, bathing in the gore that rained down upon his face and torso. 

The fight was not over, though, with Ermac leading Shao Kahn's men in dealing with the rest of the attackers. The construct was merciless, face without a shred of remorse as he gutted they who would have murdered his kahn. When they at last lay dead, Ermac stood, dripping in blood as he turned to face Shao Kahn, who lifted a hand towards him, reaching for him yet again. 

Motion from the corner of his eye made Ermac move swiftly, throwing himself before the kahn just in time to catch the sweeping blow of a blade intended on felling the kahn. Silver streaked through the air, followed by a burst of deepest claret, Ermac's head tumbling from his shoulders and rolling across the earth. 

On instinct, Shao Kahn lurched forward with an echoing howl, though he did not kill the one responsible. He ravaged them. Teeth and claws and fists mutilated any inch of flesh they could find until there was nothing left but a sanguineous pulp. 

Gore-stained hands reached out towards the limp hand of the construct's corpse, gripping it like a lifeline. A few lone, hazy souls misted their way from the bloodied stump of Ermac's neck, as if afraid to leave their former vessel behind. Shao Kahn left the koliseum cradling the corpse and head like an infant, and only when he was alone did he weep.

* * *

It was Shang Tsung who suggested the following morning that the emperor simply bind souls to a new body. Ermac was not dead, after all, seeing as he was never truly alive to begin with, and he was a useful tool to keep around. The sorcerer was forced to flee before Shao Kahn tore his heart from his chest. 

Ermac would not - _could not_ \- be replaced. 

Shao Kahn wrapped the construct's amulet around the pommel of his hammer. Something about the souls that sometimes still flickered around it was comforting. It was not Ermac, but it was _something._

The emperor took up his position in the koliseum once more, but as time went out, he caught himself reaching his hand to the side, fingertips meeting nothing.


End file.
